…I went into the second room on the right…my grandma’s sewing room. It was a mess, scraps of material everywhere, drawers open, patterns on the floor. It looked like a giant puzzle. My grandmother made quilts. She took scraps from everyone…baby blankets, clothes for kids and adults, all kinds of things, from her children and theirs. She cut squares and pieced them all together, like they were all a part of something bigger. She had bags and bags of clothes, some labeled with magic marker according to the family they came from. It was all so disorganized, but yet she brought it all together to make something beautiful. I went to my suitcase down the hall and grabbed my oldest shirt. Back in the sewing room I cut it up into squares and threw the pieces into different bags. I was going to be a part of it all too.